Taken by Surprise
by BabblingSquirrel
Summary: Harry grows up in a muggle orphanage. Although he uses wandless magic on a daily basis, he has no idea about the existence of the wizarding world. On the night of his thirteenth birthday a meeting with a certain blond changes his life forever. As a newcomer to a completely different world is he prepared to deal with the attention of one of its most powerful figures? eventual SLASH
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not get paid for writing this story. Please don't sue me.**  
**Warning: Not exactly exemplary behaviour of a certain teenager (Kids, do not smoke, smoking kills people!)**

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A tuft of messy black hair and one large brilliant green eye peeked out from behind a bookshelf. The eye followed a hunched figure in a pink felt hat out of the door and when the room was safely empty except for a stern looking woman behind the counter, a teenage boy walked out of the shadows of the aisle with an armful of books. Hearing his footsteps, the young librarian looked up from her paperwork, her piercing grey eyes softening as she caught sight of the pile of books and the pair of thin legs beneath it. She removed the oval glasses from the tip of her nose, put them down on the counter and approached the boy with a warm smile.

"You know you don't have to be shy of calling for me, when you need help Harry," she said taking the books from the boy's arms.

"I didn't want to disturb you, Miss Bracket," murmured Harry keeping his eyes on the floor.

"It's my job, sweetie. Don't worry about it next time," chuckled the librarian with a wink that no one would expect from her considering her overall strict look.

"Have you finished all the books you borrowed last time already?"

"Yes," said Harry hurriedly fishing in his bag and stacking the books up on the counter. "By the way, thank you for the tip Miss Bracket, I enjoyed reading Great Expectations very much. I don't know why Oliver Twist is considered Dickens' best novel. I find Great Expectations much more thoughtful."

"Oh sweetie, if I didn't know you read so much, I would have my jaw on the floor right now, asking where you get such academic expressions," Miss Bracket sniggered. Then her smile melted into a pensive frown. "I sometimes wonder what's to become of you…"

After watching her think for a while, Harry politely cleared his throat and held out his library ticket. She quickly turned her eyes to him, hesitated a little before taking the ticket and moving her attention to the books on the counter. Harry waited for her to finish registering the book loans showing no signs of restlessness. If she looked up, she would probably find his observant eyes quite unnerving.

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Making sure the pink felt hat was nowhere in sight Harry Potter exited the library, started walking briskly down the busy street and turned the corner into a less crowded alleyway as soon as possible. There he slowed down a bit and chuckled. Although he didn't approve of being called sweetie, he'd always enjoyed interactions with Miss Bracket. She was one of few people that were able to see something more in him than just a scrawny orphan, a burden, a waste of time and money. Not that Harry was complaining about the view of the others. It was easier to pass unnoticed when everyone thought he was nothing special. But it was also fun to have someone peeking behind the mask of prejudices and seeing at least part of his true personality. He wouldn't let it go too far, of course, some of his secrets had to stay safe. However Miss Bracket was quite harmless and she liked Harry too much to get suspicious and start snooping around.

Turning another corner Harry crossed the alley and knocked hard on a flaking wooden door of a two-storey house. The building must have been elegant in its time, the marine-blue-coloured door and window frames, the delicately wrought balcony railing, the pale azure façade, now yellowed and darkened by dust and mould on some places. It looked a bit out of place among all the Victorian red-brick houses around.

"Lazy old fool," muttered Harry opening the door with a wave of his hand. He walked through the dark dusty corridor slightly touching one of its bare cold walls with the fingers of his right hand. As he approached the dim light at the end, he could make out a figure swamped in a rocking chair. The room was not as spacious as one would assume from the length of the hallway. It gave an impression of a gloomy and kind of cosy mess. A shrivelled old man wrapped up in a faded red blanket was slumbering in the wicker rocking chair in one corner under an antique oil lamp that was currently the only source of light in the room. In front of the rocker there was a simple wooden coffee table covered by a thick layer of something that looked like a mixture of smear, raspberry jam, spilt coffee and cigarette ash. In the opposite corner there was a large sofa-bed with flowered upholstery and a turquoise duvet sprawled over one of the armrests and half of the fluffy maroon rug beside it. There were newspapers, magazines and bed sheets all over the parquet floor. In the middle of it all there was a footstool with two toppled dirty cups and a glass ashtray overflowing with butts.

Harry came up to the rocker, stared down at the snoring bundle of wrinkles for a moment, sighed and gave the man a gentle shake. "Wake up old man, it's time to get you and this den cleaned up." When there was no reaction, he thoroughly poked the man's chest. "Come on, do me a favour, open your eyes and pretend to understand at least half of the sounds coming out of my mouth." At that the puckered eyelids with almost non-existent white lashes fluttered open and revealed a pair of glazed watery blue eyes. Then a low gurgle came out of the man's throat as he tried to clear it.

"Mr Perfect's here," he exclaimed enthusiastically in his high raspy voice jumping up from the rocking chair with surprising energy, quickly untangling his limbs from the blanket. "All cleaned up in one second, Mr Perfect, just wait for it," he took the ashtray from the footstool and started scattering the butts across the room with a zealous grin on his face as if he was a bridesmaid showering a newly married couple with flowers. Dancing to music only he could hear he waltzed around the room a few times only stopping confusedly when there were no more butts to throw.

"You know I love it when you do that, old man," snickered Harry after having observed the crazy antics with an amused smirk. "Now let's transform you into the respectable Mr Sanderson once again," the boy winked as he walked up to him taking the ashtray from his hands and putting it back on the footstool. Harry frowned suspiciously as he took the man by the too thin arm and led him to a shabby little bathroom near an oak spiral staircase. "Did you make yourself at least one decent meal this past week or were you as usual surviving on the snacks I had brought you?"

"Don't you dare insult your snacks Mr Perfect, they are decent enough, they are full of those... nutritious things... vitamins. I read it in a magazine that snacks are the most decent stuff one can get to eat," babbled Mr Sanderson tugging at the hem of his filthy grey jumper distractedly.

"That's what I thought," sighed Harry pushing the man through the bathroom door. "Now to the bathtub with you and strip," the boy helped Mr Sanderson into the tub and started pulling the repulsive jumper over his head.

"You always strip the jumper off first, why not the trousers or the socks, that would be much more... convenient, yes, the socks would be much more convenient," the man's ranting was muffled by the layer of wool.

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Harry let the dirty clothes fall to the floor and collapsed on the flowered sofa-bed. Listening to the splashing sounds coming from the bathroom he stuck his hand between the cushioning and took out the pack of cigarettes he knew the old man was hiding there. _As if no one could tell from the state of the room that the occupant is a smoker. _Glancing at the floor covered with butts he had to smirk again. It was some sort of a welcoming ritual of the old man's to make an even bigger jumble in the room, when Harry announced it was time to clean up. It was entertaining to watch and he had no problem with the additional mess.

Harry lit up a cigarette with a snap of his fingers and stood up from the sofa. _Let's make this place a little inhabitable. _He pulled on the cigarette and let it dangle from his lower lip, eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration. Holding out his hands palms up he made a rising gesture and a light breeze swept through the room, lifted all the dust and dirt, tossed it through the long corridor out on the street and shut the door from outside. Then with another stronger blow all the things were put in their right places, the clothes, the sheets and the duvet folded themselves neatly on the sofa-bed, the cleaned cups flew obediently on their shelf in the kitchen. Harry drew contentedly on his cigarette as he glanced over the now spotless room.

He sat back on the sofa-bed the emptied glass ashtray in one hand, the cigarette between two fingers of the other and let himself get lost in thoughts. Today was his birthday and his "grand-uncle" Mr Sanderson was taking him to the cinema. Right. That's what they had told the old hag Hutcher. But what did he really want to do? Surely he would leave the old man at home, that's what he liked the best anyway. So he had the whole night just for himself, he could do anything. For once he was free. _I can drop by Mike's bar, I haven't seen him for ages. He would even let me sleep at his place. _Harry had come to like the jovial barman, he was easy to talk to, easy to make fun of and hard to get truly angry. _Sounds__ like a plan... _He drew on the cigarette one last time before stubbing it out on the bottom of the ashtray. As he was placing it on the footstool, there came a loud slosh. _For God's sake w__hat is he doing in there? _Harry stood up and headed for the bathroom.

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Lucius Malfoy was a patient man. A very patient man if he had a say in it. But to be kept waiting for almost an hour in this filthy muggle den was crossing the line. He sat in a dark corner of the almost empty bar nursing his second glass of what the bartender had called the best whisky they had. It couldn't stand comparison with Firewhisky and so by far neither with the drinks he preferred. This was just one hell of an evening.

Yet as he thought about it, he could at least relax for a while. Since his Lord's return at the beginning of June he worked literally day and night. It was necessary to renew old liaisons and create new ones while keeping the whole movement a secret. That was a very precarious job and they couldn't afford any missteps. It was much easier for the Dark Lord to drop all the work on the head of the most experienced and successful politician in his service than respect Lucius' need for freedom and let the tasks be ruined by some incompetent bootlickers. He also had to maintain his influential post at the ministry because it was convenient to have someone pulling the strings from behind the scenes. And that his Lord had moved the headquarters to Malfoy manor? It was the safest privet property in England, of course. Yes, he understood the Dark Lord's reasoning very well and since he was in the man's good graces he had no ground for complaints. However, it didn't stop him from feeling trapped. He finished the drink and waved for the waiter to get him another two. There was no need for keeping up appearances in the muggle world. This would be one hell of an evening.

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When Harry appeared in a narrow alleyway near Mike's bar it was already getting dark. He knew that if he wanted to talk to Mike, he should have come earlier in the evening. At this hour Mike would be probably too busy. _But it's Monday, nobody goes to a bar on Monday, right? _

As he approached the main street, he caught sight of commotion to his right from the corner of his eye. Spotting a pink felt hat he quickly ducked into the nearest passage. _That was close! How does she do that? Is she following me or something? Seriously, Mrs Hutcher, you give me the creeps..._Cautiously he watched her pass the alley. When he couldn't hear her footsteps anymore, he left his hiding place and headed off for the bar on the main street.

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He entered through the glass door and had to stop for a moment to let his eyes get used to the dim lighting inside. It wasn't the most decent spot one could find but it was quite clean and the prices were reasonable. There were two connected rooms both the same size, furnished the same way with small rectangular tables and wooden benches that created separate compartments alongside the dark brown walls. The space taken in the first room by a bar made of solid alder matching the furniture, was filled up with a tiny dance floor in the second. There was only one chandelier in each of the rooms so that the shadow in the corners was almost impenetrable.

Harry walked up to the bar carefully taking in his surroundings. There was only one currently cooing couple in the second room and then he came to feel the sharp stare directed at his back from the corner right behind him.

"Harry," exclaimed the barman joyfully offering the boy a hand across the bar. "How've you been? Haven't seen you since your old man last strayed here." said the man in a playfully scolding tone.

"Hey Mike, didn't see you there," teased Harry, turning his attention from the dark corner he'd been examining to the lanky young man before him and shaking his hand. "I reckoned I'd have to take cover in that cupboard of yours but this place is perfectly dead. Isn't your business suffering?" challenged Harry cheekily, hopping on a barstool.

Mike gave him a significant look. "Well, Monday evening, what would you expect? Not that we are exactly crowded any other day. However, if you want to stay here tonight, you'll have to take cover anyway. I'd suggest one of the corners. I don't suppose whoever is coming to relieve me will be happy to serve a twelve-year-old," replied Mike bitingly yet with an apologetic glint in the warm brown eyes.

"You don't do all night shifts anymore? Oh, don't tell me you've finally found yourself a girl! Is she pretty?" suggested Harry goadingly.

"No, I-" Mike started to respond his ears reddening.

"So she's not pretty, that's a shame," pouted Harry for effect.

"No, prat," Mike smacked the boy over the head with a tea towel though a low chuckle gave out his amusement. "I've merely found myself an assistant as you so wisely suggested the last time we met," explained Mike returning to his tea towel and wet glasses.

"Glad to be of any help," replied Harry with a mocking bow. "And by the way, I'm no twelve-year-old anymore."

"When?" asked Mike suspiciously.

"Today," the boy announced proudly.

"Well, that doesn't count yet," deadpanned Mike, the right corner of his mouth twitching.

"Git," muttered Harry with an amused smile.

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**AN: So that was the first chapter of my first story, did you like it? If you did, please let me know so I have some idea for whom to write the next chapter :) If you didn't, I'd like to know what I should improve ;)**

**AN: Sorry about the smoking. I know it's a nasty habit, but isn't it what kids that aren't properly taken care of do?**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you so much everyone who followed and favourited! Special thanks go to my first five reviewers, you really made my day :)  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not get paid for writing this story. Please don't sue me.**  
**Warning: Not exactly exemplary behaviour of a certain teenager (Kids, do not smoke, smoking kills people!)  
A few slightly "slashy" hints, but nothing physical (yet ;)) **

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Sipping at the last few drops of the muggle liquor Lucius Malfoy came to the conclusion that to like the alcohol one had to consume enough of it. After the fifth glass he found himself quite enjoying the taste. He was going to order another whisky to discover if it could get any better, when a young man entered the bar. Lucius had to fight a shiver threatening to overwhelm him as he felt the change in the air. It was similar to being in close proximity to his Lord yet not the same. In the presence of the Dark Lord one tended to be on guard, the power thick, almost liquid, pulsing and ready to lash out. This man's magic, while still heavily intoxicating, seemed to be better controlled and lulled those in its range into a false sense of security. Studying him from the safety of his darkened table Lucius didn't expect the stranger to notice him. However, the most enchanting bright green eyes turned in his direction the next second and for a moment he was sure that they pierced through the shadows, through all his masks and protections and looked right into his soul. His breath hitched in his throat.

He should have been irritated with the man that was able to make him lose his poise so easily. Instead he was fascinated and drawn to him. Composing himself he examined him further and realized that the man had yet to become one. He would guess him to be no more than fifteen maybe sixteen years old. He was very good-looking. No, he was beautiful, there was no other word for it, but nowhere near feminine. The boy seemed a bit short for his supposed age, though not unnaturally so. He was slender yet not fragile nor delicate. His eyes were by far the most captivating thing about him, they were a rare shade of brilliant verdant green framed by long black eyelashes, though his face was also a work of art. The defined jawline, the distinct cheekbones, the slightly pouty rosy lips... And then there was the rather cute boyish mess of raven black hair. Yes, the boy was definitely one of the most charming creatures he had ever come across.

Hoping to get some information about the intriguing newcomer Lucius would have eagerly followed the conversation between the boy and the barman. But as soon as the bartender took breath for his hearty greeting, he distinctly felt an unfamiliar sort of privacy ward come up around the pair of them. Fascinating indeed.

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Harry Potter was not stupid, or so he liked to believe. He had noted there was something different the moment he had walked in the bar. There was a magical source other than his own in the room. There, in the dark corner conveniently right behind his back as he talked to Mike, was someone watching his every move. It wasn't the first time he sensed other magical cores and there was something not exactly wrong but out of order with this person's aura, as if he carried a part of someone else's, much stronger magic aside from his own. That was definitely new for Harry and he had to admit that he was curious. Yet he knew he didn't have to do anything but wait, the stranger would approach him on his own accord._ This could be rather fun. _He smirked and carried on with the conversation with Mike.

It was around ten when the couple in the next room wanted the bill and Mike left Harry alone by the bar. The stranger was quick, one had to give him that. The instant Mike left, the man was already sitting down on the barstool next to him. Not hastily as Harry expected but with confident serene grace. It was then that he was sure he was dealing with someone distinguished. Harry observed the man dispassionately from the corner of his eye taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He could only see him in profile but the aristocratic features, the fair flawless complexion and the long shiny blond hair were somewhat prominent even from that angle. It was the kind of appearance one couldn't describe without an understatement. Although he didn't show it, Harry was impressed. He just hoped the man wasn't royalty. He hid a grin. This would be an interesting night, he was certain.

"Got a light?" asked Harry pulling out a cigarette.

The man turned to him concealing the confusion in the pale grey nearly silver eyes almost immediately. He looked around, then drew a long wooden stick out of his sleeve and flicked it in front of Harry. It was his turn to be confused but he swiftly adapted to the situation and shoved the end of the cigarette into the flames dancing around the tip of the stick.

"Thanks," he muttered blowing out the smoke feeling the other man's watchful eyes on him all the time. "Do you stare like that on everyone, or am I the lucky exception?" he asked innocently, glancing sideways to keep track of the man's expression, deciding to think about strange wooden sticks later.

"I'd guess you are the lucky exception," the man replied apparently not unsettled by the insinuation one bit.

"To what do I owe the honour?" inquired Harry tapping the ash off into a black ceramic ashtray.

"To me of course, since I'm the one staring," answered the man calmly not missing a beat.

Harry turned to face him completely with a crooked smile, intrigued. A challenge? Really?

"But I don't have anything to repay you," Harry remarked ostensibly pensive, though the suggestion was clear in his voice. Now he managed to take him by surprise. He let himself watch the fair eyebrows rise and different emotions successively fill the man's face. Confusion, realization, incredulity, desire.

"Want a smoke?" he offered opening the pack of cigarettes and pushing it towards the man, highly amused when he saw relief mixing with disappointment in his eyes.

"No, thank you. I don't believe that staring is such a meritorious activity deserving a reward," he observed, composing himself quickly. "In some cases it might be more beneficial to the one staring than to the person stared at," he continued drily. "May I buy you a drink?" finished the man graciously, now so calm and collected that Harry almost wondered if he had imagined the situation just a moment ago.

"If you say so," he replied teasingly. "Alright, I'll join you at your table in a minute." It was an obvious dismissal though not impolite. The man nodded in acceptance, his eyes never leaving Harry's face, then went to sit back in the corner.

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If he had been fascinated before, he now feared to give his impression of the boy a name. No one dared to play with a Malfoy! Yet this lad had managed it with ease and style and even so that Lucius had enjoyed it. And his magic! It had been alluring from across the room. Right next to him, it was almost impossible to restrain one's desire to be closer to the boy, to touch him. Malfoys didn't swear. _But __bloody hell who is he? _

He replayed the whole encounter in his head. The boy hadn't given out anything about himself aside from being quick-witted, manipulative, confident, saucy and kind of infuriating. He was a smoker. At sixteen or whatever his age, he was definitely in his teens, so maybe rebellious? And then there had been the short hesitation when he had pulled out his wand. The lad hadn't seemed cautious, that would have been understandable, but for a second he'd looked baffled as if he'd never seen anyone do magic before. Strange.

His attention was still on the boy when the barman returned from the next room with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Paolo called. He'll be here in a few minutes. When I'm done instructing him we can go to my place, order a pizza, watch movies or whatever you'd like to do to celebrate," the bartender suggested enthusiastically.

"Paolo? You've hired an Italian? Cool," remarked the lad.

"No idea, I've never met him. I gave a job advert to an agency and they told me someone would come by or let me know this evening. So what about later, are you coming?" inquired the man.

"Actually, I think I'll stay here for a bit. Sorry, Mike. We can celebrate some other time, it won't take me too long to show up. Promise," said the boy guiltily in an apologetic voice.

"Why do you want to stay?" Mike questioned, plainly disappointed.

"I've met someone," responded the lad vaguely.

"Whom?" the man implied.

"That man," answered the lad pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. He sounded indifferent but when one listened carefully, there was a trace of interest leaking through.

"Do you know him?" Mike asked suspiciously.

"I've met him," the boy equivocated.

"Alright. But if you want to sleep at my place, be there before midnight, ok?" offered the bartender resignedly as if knowing it was fruitless to pry when the boy wasn't willing to tell and gave the lad the I-hope-you-know-what-you're-doing look.

"Yes, mum," the boy answered in a playful tone and planting a kiss on the bewildered man's cheek, he headed off to Lucius' corner with an amused grin on his face.

"What do we drink?" he asked on the way to the table.

"Whisky?" Lucius suggested.

"Mike, fetch us two scotches with rocks before you go, will you?" called the boy over his shoulder not bothering to turn around. Lucius saw the barman shaking his head incredulously but pouring the whisky. To be honest he wanted to shake his head incredulously too. Were they seriously going to have rocks in their drinks?

"So, what did you come up with, Sherlock?" inquired the lad sitting down on the bench opposite him studying him closely after letting his eyes adjust to the lack of light.

"Excuse me?" Lucius lifted an eyebrow uncomprehendingly.

"You've been observing me as if you were analysing and assessing my every move for the better part of the evening. I suppose you've had to come up with something by now," explained the boy wearily, his eyes alert. "If you aren't completely daft that is," he challenged as an afterthought.

"I'm not quick to judge, one often comes to wrong conclusions that way," informed Lucius avoiding the answer. "Who's Sherlock?" he asked curiously.

"This brilliant detective. Wait, you've never heard of Sherlock Holmes? Now, I understand," the boy remarked with something akin to mock realization. "Thanks Mike," he gave the worried-looking man a reassuring smile as the bartender placed two glasses filled with honey-coloured liquid and ice cubes on the table before them. "Really it's no wonder, when you are missing such a vast inspiration in your life," continued the lad sympathetically. "Thus in that case considering you had to invent your investigative method all by yourself I have to congratulate you on your seminal deduction," he finished theatrically.

It took Lucius a second to make sense of the implied insult and he believed there were still a few aspects of it he didn't understand. The boy acted like an excellent chess player prepared for every move his opponent could possibly make. Never mind he had employed the skill only for his own entertainment so far. He couldn't but speculate if he'd ever see the boy serious. Till now he'd just joked around. Yes, it was inventive and fairly stimulating. Yet he simply knew there had to be more to him. The question was how to get him to show it.

When Lucius didn't say anything for a while, the boy raised his glass with a soft but passionate "to walkie-talkie" and took a sip of his whisky.

"To walkie-talkie," Lucius also toasted for the sake of politeness. "Now, if you wouldn't mind leaving this topic I admit I have no idea about, why don't you introduce yourself?" he said with a small smile indicating that he wasn't offended.

To Lucius' surprise the boy looked satisfied. At first for a fraction of a second it'd seemed he'd burst out laughing, though the expression had disappeared so quickly that he wasn't sure it had been there at all. Then he looked satisfied and intrigued. He had expected defiance, maybe even the childish why-me-first reaction to his request. That most likely crossed out rebellious.

"Oh, I'm Harry," he offered cheerfully holding out a hand across the table. No last name? A bit suspicious but nowadays one had to be careful.

"Lucius," he said also extending his hand. "Pleasure to m-" it was then that many things happened at the same time. At first the boy's magic started buzzing around him in anticipation, after that Lucius noticed a note lying on the table in front of Harry saying "Don't worry", in the next second his hand was finally touching Harry's over the table and then there came the well known tug of Apparation.

Apparation with Harry was by far the most enjoyable he'd ever experienced. The unpleasant feeling of being pulled through a very tight tube lasted only for an instant at the beginning and at the end of the process. In the intervening time he felt as if being levitated. There was nothing drawing him in any direction, no weight, just his head, trunk and limbs floating in the darkness.

When the second tight tube spat him out, Lucius found himself gasping for breath kneeling on a polished floor of nice light colours of white oak. There was only one big window in the room, half covered with heavy wine-coloured curtains. In front of the window about three feet into the room there was a black writing desk with two books, a few sheets of paper and a pen all perfectly arranged in the right corner. To the left of the table there was a library consisted of countless rows of black bookshelves touching the white ceiling each marked with a red plate, though only the first five or six of the shelves were filled with books, the rest was empty. On the side opposite the window the room didn't seem to end, just more and more rows of shelves and the flawless white oak floor sinking into the shadows. The wall to the right of the table was covered by a tasteful wallpaper with a complicated pattern in black and white. The only furniture in the room aside from the shelves and the desk was a crimson red leather armchair placed to the right of the table maybe two yards from the wall. Evidently there was no door in the room at least not visible one.

Lucius rose to his feet looking for Harry who was already seated in the crimson armchair observing him with an unreadable expression.

"I've never expected to have any visitors," the boy said. "Please, take a seat," he invited conjuring the exact same red armchair opposite his own. Lucius' eyes widened, he had never seen anyone do such complex spells wondlessly. Well, whom was he kidding? He hadn't seen anyone Apparate without using his wand from the middle of a bar either.

When Lucius sat down there came a strong surge of magic, wrapped itself around him and disappeared. It wasn't unpleasant, he doubted anything not exactly painful done by Harry's magic would be disagreeable, though since he didn't know this spell's purpose, the magic didn't give him any sense of security this time.

"Harry, would you inform me what you've done to me, where we are and why you decided it was necessary to take me here against my will?" inquired Lucius trying to sound dispassionate. However that was a long shot from what he really felt, he was in an unfamiliar room without a door and his only companion was an unpredictable and immensely powerful teenager.

"The spell you sensed will ensure anything that happens here will not leave this room. That means if you try to disclose any information about what you'll hear or see here tonight to a third person, you won't be able to," Harry explained patiently, his voice lacking the usual playful undertone, his eyes unnervingly focused on Lucius' face. Now Lucius had his answer. Harry would only show his true character, when he was sure what he revealed couldn't be used against him.

"You can be certain that we are in London," Harry continued. "About your third question, to put it shortly, I decided to take you here because you toasted to walkie-talkie," a chuckle escaped the boy, though he composed himself immediately. "Also because you didn't know who Sherlock Holmes is, you were wondering whether you'd have to drink rocks or because you've never lit anyone's cigarette. I took you here because you made sure no one was watching before you conjured a flame with that wooden stick of yours. I thought it better to have this conversation in private when you were obviously afraid of anyone finding out the answers to the questions I'm going to ask. There are no spells keeping you from leaving if you find this situation uncomfortable. Although I'd prefer if you stayed and talked to me. Just a talk, that's all I ask. I suspected and dreamed about this for far too long. Would you tell me about your world?" when he finished his voice was calm, his face serene and his head curiously inclined to one side.

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**AN: Thank you for reading the second chapter of my story :) Did you like it? Did you hate it? I'm eager to find out so please let me know, I'll be grateful even for the shortest one of your reviews :)  
AN: Now I have a sad announcement to make about the updating. I've been sick and spent this past week in bed with nothing else to do than read and write so the updates won't be coming so soon as this one. I'd say every two weeks? ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you so much for all your reviews! I was over the moon about every single one of them :) Also thanks to everyone who followed and favourited!  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not get paid for writing this story. Please don't sue me.**  
**Warning: This chapter contains a mild and short yet still very slash (male/male) scene. There's also underage sex (well, if it can be called sex) since Harry's just turned thirteen. You've been warned.  
****AN: There's been a question about the main pairing in this story. If there's more of you out there wondering (and after this chapter you would probably wonder even more), this is going to be an HP/LV story E****VENTUALLY. I'm getting there, don't worry ;)**

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He couldn't remember the last time he had found it so hard to restrain himself from laughing. The dumbstruck expression on Lucius' face was simply hilarious. Remembering his arrogant and domineering behaviour in the bar, he reckoned having absolutely no control over the current situation had to be driving the man crazy right now. Harry usually wasn't the gleeful type, but this was too tempting. Yet he had to keep his composure, it would be idiotic to ruin this exceptional opportunity. He was far too curious to let his own stupidity come in the way of his thirst for knowledge. He needed information from this man. Information about the Other World, whose existence he was now finally sure of.

Since the first time he had recognised a magical source in a crowd waiting at a bus stop when he'd been seven, he had been wondering about people like him that had probably lived among the ordinary ones. Did they all choose to keep their powers a secret? Did they not want to share or discuss their magical abilities, the things they learned about themselves, about their grasp on magic and its progress? Did all the magic stay hidden and wasted as it had come to people throughout the ages? These had been his questions then.

After he had sensed magic in a wrinkled old woman when he had gone shopping with Mr Sanderson as an eight year old, he had concluded they were cowards. He had known that if he had approached someone at that time, they would have laughed at him. To them he would have been just a child with wild fantasy. But he had promised himself that once he was old enough to be taken seriously, he'd corner one of those chickens and make them talk.

That opinion had held until the early evening of Halloween when he'd been eleven. It had been the first time the old man had wandered off to Mike's bar and while searching for him Harry had encountered a whole group of people with magical cores. There had been sixteen of them, they had all been wearing these weird dress-like clothes, they had been laughing madly and had seemed to be wonderfully drunk. It simply couldn't have been by accident that they'd been all magical, right? And for the first time in his life Harry had felt hope. Hope that there was something more to the world than his hellhole of an orphanage and stuck-up people looking down on him. There had to be something more.

And then for two years there had been nothing. No more groups of magical people, no more weird dress-like clothes. Till tonight he'd had absolutely no proof to substantiate his theory, his dream. And now a man probably holding the answers to all his questions was sitting in his Office right across from him looking baffled and confused to the brink of madness. Right. When had been the last time he had told himself he was a genius?

He was still curious about the fraction of someone else's magic attached to the other man's own, though he wouldn't pry into that now. Maybe later. For all he knew it could be quite personal. He had no information about the Other World's costumes and traditions. It might be some kind of magical contract, a vow or a bond, possibly marriage? However, he doubted that Lucius would have found himself a spouse so powerful. He just wasn't the type Harry would expect to be the weaker one in a relationship. He had to fight down a chuckle threatening to leave his throat at the image. Checking his emotionless mask he waited patiently for Lucius to get over his bewilderment. What had the man so shocked was beyond him though.

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His jaw had been hanging open just for a second and Harry definitely couldn't have noticed, Lucius was quite sure as he forced a dispassionate expression on his face. Still the mess in his head was fairly disturbing. What had the boy just said? It had sounded like... But no, that wasn't possible. He had seen the lad do incredible things. One so in control of his magic had had to be trained, had to be schooled by other wizards. It was unimaginable that it had all come to the teen naturally. And in the most improbable case that it had, how could the wizarding world not know about such talent? How could this prodigy escape Dumbledore's attention. The old coot was a nuisance but he had his ways to find children with even the tiniest bit of potential. Hell, he was able to sniff out even the last blasted mudblood in England and this kid had come unnoticed? No, not possible! His jaw had dropped again. He sighed and hoping to keep at least some of his dignity placed a suspicious frown on his face. He swallowed heavily, twice before finally being able to speak.

"What do you mean, my world?" Lucius asked not quite ready to admit to himself he'd already known the answer.

"Well, the community you live in or whatever you'd like to call it. There have to be others, right? Or are you an alien?" Harry inquired drily his eyes twinkling with amusement. It was really starting to get on Lucius' nerves to hear words whose meaning he had absolutely no clue about. "There's no way you've been living among ordinary people and haven't come across such things as cigarettes or detective stories," he finished keeping Lucius under a piercing stare making him feel like he was being analysed from the inside out.

Lucius gazed at him disbelievingly for quite a while. So that was for not possible.

"Would you like something to drink?" offered the boy taking pity on him.

"Yes, that would be much appreciated," said Lucius trying not to sound too grateful.

The lad waved his hand and at once an elegant black coffee table materialised between them. With another wave he summoned two glasses and a very old-looking bottle.

"I found it in the basement. It's some kind of brandy, rather good," the boy commented uncorking the bottle and pouring them both an inch of the maroon liquid.

Lucius took a sip and was surprised to recognise the taste. It was very similar to one of his favourite older brands. He wanted to check the label, but it was missing.

He finished his drink pretty quickly and even though Harry had drunk only few sips of his own so far, the boy generously poured him a second glass.

"So, we were talking about your world," prompted the lad offhandedly, yet his eyes were boring into Lucius' impatiently. Lucius took a deep breath, then a proper gulp of his brandy and braced himself. This was going to be long and tedious. He could as well get it over with.

"Where to start... There is a community of witches and wizards hidden from muggles - non magical people," he began. Why was he doing this again? "You could say we have a world of our own, though it's mostly part of the same civilization. We live in London but in sections not accessible to muggles. The same goes for other cities, towns and villages across England and also the continent. In Europe solely wizarding settlements are very rare. However in Asia, Africa, America and Australia magical villages, somewhere even towns are much more common. Although we have our residences quite close to the muggle ones, the two cultures are distinctly diverse..."

And so it went on and on. Lucius patiently explained everything Harry showed interest in and after Lucius' fourth and Harry's second glass of brandy, the boy appeared to be accustomed to the idea of the wizarding world enough to discuss rather complex topics and issues. The lad's curiosity and enthusiasm didn't seem to end and strangely Lucius found himself enjoying the conversation. Over his fifth glass he could feel he was getting quite tipsy though.

"What I still don't understand is why you all use wands when it's so easy to do magic without them. Do the spells somehow get more powerful when one uses a wand?" Harry's thoughtful voice pulled Lucius out of his hazy musings.

"To tell you the truth, I've never seen anyone practice wandless magic like you. Some of the more accomplished wizards can perform simple spells but never with such ease or in such a spontaneous way as you do it. However to conjure furniture or to Apparate, that's simply beyond the grasp we are able to have on wandless magic," Lucius explained earnestly pouring himself another glass.

Harry seemed to be pondering voicing an argument though in the end he changed the subject.

"You told me about the pureblood culture and the dubious political machinery. May I ask a favour?" he asked carefully.

"That depends..." replied Lucius vaguely his head spinning dangerously. He wasn't used to drinking so much but today he had needed it. Needed to switch off. If it was wise doing it in this cunning teen's presence that was another thing entirely.

"Would you help me out once I join the magical community? I mean socially. You have connections and strong political influence. I would like to... meet the right people, if you know what I mean," implied Harry observing the other man closely.

Lucius pulled the request through his suddenly very mushy brain once, twice before answering: "I suppose I could do that." His tongue felt heavy and it took some effort to form coherent words. It seemed the six drinks he'd had in the bar were catching up with him.

Harry gave him a strange look, then stood up and walked around the coffee table to the other man. Stopping in front of the armchair he extended his hand expectantly. Lucius watched it for a bit before his cloudy mind took control of his body and made him shake it vigorously. Abruptly a tingly wave swept through his head.

"What was that?" started Lucius sobering instantaneously.

"Oh, don't worry, it's nothing like the vows you've told me about," reassured Harry. "It'll just make you remember in the morning," he offered with a cheeky grin.

"Do I look that drunk?" asked Lucius rather needlessly.

"Well, to be honest..." the boy inclined his head to one side significantly.

"I guess I am quite a mess," sighed Lucius downing his drink. "Sit," he ordered patting the armrest. As he came out of the stupor laboriously he was overwhelmed once again by the boy's aura. It was everywhere, he had nowhere to escape. And he probably wouldn't even if he could since it felt so damn good.

"Tell me, Lucius," Harry ordered in an authoritative yet strangely sweet voice leaning against the indicated armrest. Lucius shivered, he couldn't help it. Hearing his name pronounced that way went straight to his groin. He felt hot nerves knot low in his stomach. He was so screwed.

"It will make you feel good," the boy now spoke in a mostly sympathetic but to Lucius' ears still thickly erotic hushed tone. As he said it he laid his hand gently on Lucius' thigh in an innocent comforting gesture. A whimper he hadn't quite managed to fight back escaped Lucius' lips. He felt his cock twitch and in the muggle jeans he was wearing it was pretty visible as he hardened.

"Lucius," Harry added in a suggestive whisper moving his hand upwards on Lucius' inner thigh. There was nothing innocent about it. Lucius moaned not caring about the precariousness of the situation anymore. He was painfully hard now and Harry's hand was so warm and infuriatingly close.

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Once in a long while Harry was enjoying himself immensely. He could sober Lucius up anytime, he'd had quite the practice with Mike, but it was so much fun making the arrogant blond squirm. Besides he wanted the man to tell him whatever was bothering him. He could sense important information when it was circling under his nose on a silver platter.

He cleared the other man's mind only to certain extent so that Lucius could see how absurd it was to be turned on like a hormonal teenager by a perfectly calm and composed supposed hormonal teenager. It wouldn't help Lucius' current state one bit yet it would bring the slight pang of guilt and shame Harry was going for. And there it was, the bright silver eyes closing in humiliation and opening only to come to the mortifying feeling of arousal again. Sweet God of manipulation, how he loved this!

"Tell me," Harry repeated his voice now firm and unyielding, withdrawing his hand from the other man's lap.

"I'm a slave. I'm a bloody slave and can't even complain about it with an easy conscience. My Lord treats me with respect, says he enjoys my company, overlooks the petty mistakes I make and praises me for my accomplishments," the man mumbled feverishly driven by alcohol-boosted anxiety. He babbled on but Harry couldn't make out one single English word.

Really? Lucius humbled in a position of a servant? This master had to be worthwhile. Considering Lucius' influential position he had to have colossal power in the wizarding world.

"You know you kind of remind me of my Lord?" Lucius appeared ready to slap himself after saying that then he glanced at Harry with uncharacteristic bashfulness and murmured: "He treasures his books in a rather fierce manner," Lucius chuckled nervously eying the countless rows of bookshelves in the room. "Although there are no empty shelves in his library," he paused and turned his desperate grey gaze to Harry. "And you know what's rich? One wouldn't guess him to be older than you. He looks like a bloody teenager," he started cackling hysterically in a seemingly unstoppable fit.

Lucius' master was the same age as Harry? What the hell? But if he was so young he had to be... quite exceptional. And Lucius said he _looked_ like a teenager not that he actually was one. However could it be this master's magic Lucius was carrying? Was it a bond between a master and a servant of some sort they were sharing?

Suddenly Lucius seemed to come to himself, though it lasted only a short moment. Then he looked at Harry with hungry eyes and threw himself at the boy. Before he knew it Harry's back was against the wall and his front was covered by Lucius' firm body. He felt the other man's arousal pressing against his stomach until he was lifted up, his legs coming around Lucius' hips instinctively. No, he would not succumb to his body's silly whims. He wouldn't. Lucius' lips found a sensitive spot on his neck and sucked on it almost painfully. He hissed at the wave of heat coiling in his belly and sending hot pulsing blood to his crotch. His cock throbbed and he couldn't but rock his hips against the other man's . Their erections came together in a blissful moment of blinding pleasure and they both moaned loudly. Harry's fingers found their way into the incredibly soft long hair. Lucius' hand was on a hot-trailed journey up his chest under his T-shirt. Harry gasped as the older man's fingers found his nipple and twisted it mercilessly. His arousal now painful against Lucius', Harry let his legs fall to the floor.

"Wait," he whispered urgently in Lucius' ear feeling the shiver run its way down the other man's spine as Harry's breath brushed through his hair. With one wave of his hand Harry conjured a king-size bed. Lucius stared at it disbelievingly for an instant before turning his lust-filled eyes to the boy. With another wave of Harry's hand Lucius fell down on the bed sound asleep.

Harry sighed as he sat down in the crimson leather armchair gasping for breath. Not that he didn't find the man attractive, quite the opposite. This just wasn't the way he wanted to make his entrance in the Wizarding World. He was sure that if something happened now and the man were to find out how old he was, Lucius probably wouldn't be too pleased with himself. Harry knew he appeared to be older than his real age and the other man didn't look to be the paedophile type. And to be honest, he definitely hoped for his first time to be with someone sober. _You've almost lost it there, you dolt! _

Harry stood up and headed to the bed. He bent down over Lucius extending his senses to find the source of the foreign powerful magic. Harry finally took the man's left forearm and exposed the pale flawless skin stained by faint greyish lines. A snake and a skull. Not so cute. Still the magic was drawing him nearer. However when he felt the desperate urge to lick the marked skin, he quickly rolled Lucius' sleeve back down and went to sit back in his armchair.

He couldn't wait for the other man's reaction in the morning since he'd remember all the good parts. He snickered. Why was it that the rather modest number of his encounters with wizards happened while the investigated side was totally smashed? Well to set the record straight, he had to admit he'd been not so subtly implicated in getting this latest one drunk. Still he couldn't complain. If he were to judge the Wizarding World by Lucius' example, he'd say that when drunk, wizards were fairly entertaining.

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**AN: Thank you for reading this chapter! Did you enjoy it? Please, let me know ;) **  
**So, that was my very first slash scene right up there. How was it? Pretty please, leave me a review so that I know whether you liked it or not :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews! Please leave me more of those addictive things :)****  
****Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not get paid for writing this story. Please don't sue me.**  
**Warning: Not exactly exemplary behaviour of a certain teenager once again (Kids, do not smoke, smoking kills people!)****  
****AN: This is a lot longer than usual. I was thinking about splitting the chapter in two but couldn't since all its parts are so interconnected that it probably wouldn't make much sense when separated. I hope you don't mind me slowing the narrative speed a little in this chapter... I need to give Harry some space to show how his mind works ;)**  
**Enjoy :)**

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The room was bathing in thick black shadows penetrated only by a silvery light coming through a window. Wine-coloured curtains were tucked to the sides allowing the moonlight free reign as far as it could reach. It fell on a marble windowsill, slithered across the smooth surface of a black writing desk, then got caught up in a mess of untameable dark locks before finally being sucked into the darkness. A broad mahogany bed occupied by a snoring blond entangled in seal brown satin sheets served as the only reminder of previous night's strange events.

Harry was sitting in his crimson armchair smoking his third cigarette in a row deep in thought. He was now in the complicated and lengthy process of absorbing all the recently gained information and making hopefully reasonable conclusions. He had to start planning as soon as possible. He wouldn't let himself get taken by surprise. This was a unique opportunity to start from scratch, an opportunity to come to a new society with a clean slate, to have people finally base their opinions on his actions and not on unjustified prejudices. An opportunity Harry had never truly expected to be given. He was so excited! He couldn't wait to enter the Wizarding World. Still he was aware it wouldn't be easy and he needed to be adequately prepared. Everything in its time.

First he needed a suitable guide. That was where Lucius came into the picture. Quite soon for Harry's taste. He growled and slumped in his seat drawing on the almost finished cigarette. He'd need to deal with the man in the morning. He was looking forward to watching the blond struggle his way through his hazy memories from last night, which would get rather clear and detailed from a certain point and wouldn't stop nagging him until... Well, it should be fun. Nevertheless, he knew he'd need to make some effort to gain the man's trust. Harry wasn't a fool. It was obvious that Lucius was a respectable, hard-working man and getting smashed most probably wasn't on his list of favourite leisure activities. If the blond were to blame Harry for last night's events, his dependence on Lucius' help could get quite bothersome.

Well, to be honest it was bothersome already. For Harry it had been a long and arduous way to admitting he actually needed the man. He'd even gotten himself to acknowledge the fact that it hadn't been the brightest idea to play with Lucius the way he had. And although the result of his manipulations hadn't been all that unpleasant, Harry had vowed he would never let himself get so out of control ever again. Not with the blond nor with anyone else. As a matter of fact it had been this vow that had stopped him from spelling Lucius' clothes off when he'd been for the hundredth time amusing himself with the image of the man's puzzlement come the morning.

Harry hissed in pain as the cigarette burned away and its hot end reached his fingers. He summoned an ashtray from downstairs and chuckled as it already half-filled landed in his hand. He added his butt to the lot and laid the ashtray aside on the coffee table. He leaned back comfortably against the overstuffed backrest trying to recall where he had stopped in his musings. Yes, Lucius. Blaming him. Right. He didn't expect the man to blame him. At least not for too long. When not intoxicated the blond had shown signs of steady rational thinking and sharp wit. Harry had been fairly astonished by how soon the man had pegged out after getting a bottle within his reach. Something had had to be eating away at the blond for quite some time. Something to do with his lord, his mysterious master.

It was irking Harry to no end that he didn't know a thing about the man, teen or whatever he was. The only useable information he had on the wizard was that he was powerful, possibly dangerous and his magic was able to awake something wild and sinful in Harry. He didn't like the last fact one bit. He wouldn't be controlled by anyone! Yet it was true. And all he could do was keep coming up with various rather feeble hypothesis. Lucius had let slip that they were somewhat alike, Harry and this master. Considering that, Harry was sure he wouldn't pass unnoticed by the wizard. In the end one of them would find his way to the other, even if drawn by mere curiosity. At least what Harry had felt of the man's magic promised that much. However, it was meaningless to speculate about the wizard now. It would only annoy him further and take him to misleading conclusions.

Back to Lucius. There was this… soft spot… could he word it that way? Well, Lucius seemed to have a soft spot for him. Wasn't that endearing? A few times since their first encounter in the bar Harry had noticed the man spacing out for almost imperceptible instants as if high on something. Harry had told himself he'd had no idea for how long the blond had been in the bar and just how many glasses had gone through his hands by the time he'd come. Now, he had to wonder. If the man had been already drunk when they'd met, there was no way he'd have made it through the rest of the evening and drinks still able to form a coherent word. Harry suspected that Lucius' blackouts had had something to do with his magic, though he'd need to test this theory. Had it perhaps been the appeal of Harry's magic that Lucius meant when saying he'd reminded him of his lord? One way or another, Lucius had a soft spot for him. Funny.

Still he hadn't dared to hope for Lucius to simply give in and play along when he had taken him from the bar by force and demanded answers. He had been prepared for anger and a thorough questioning. He had even foreseen a fight. Yet the man had gone along with his wishes and patiently as if talking to his son – at least that was how Harry imagined a father-son conversation – explained every single thing Harry asked about or seemed not to understand completely. And then they had actually discussed a few interesting topics concerning the Wizarding World. Harry had been fascinated by the concept of goblins managing the whole financial system. He couldn't decide what to make of a hundred-and-thirteen-year-old nuisance of a man handling a school-castle hidden away in the middle of Scotland. And called Hogwarts. Should he find it hilarious or unsettling? Then there'd been the matter of wands and wandless magic as Lucius had called it. He'd have to think on that later. And finally Harry had been most interested in the political scene, which had also been the point where Lucius had gotten somewhat vague in some of his responses and started looking rather uncomfortable. Still no one had ever talked with Harry like that. And he appreciated it. Quite a lot. No need to get sappy here. Right.

For some time he pondered on extracting his unfortunate slip of control from Lucius' mind but decided against it. He wanted help, honesty and trust from the man. He might as well be fair and treat him with some respect. It would be cowardly of him to avoid taking responsibility for his actions. And now he was getting not only sappy but also righteous. Jeez. Weariness was getting the better of him.

Harry yawned. From the armchair he reached for the first drawer of his writing desk, pulled it open and took out an old-looking silver pocket watch. Half past three. He could definitely use some sleep, though he would have more than enough time for that rotting the whole week in the orphanage.

He stood up, stretched himself and put the pocket watch back in the drawer. Then he walked alongside the rows of bookshelves and soon completely disappeared in the darkness. A tiny ball of light popped up in the air over his head in the next second. The room truly did seem endless. It took almost a whole minute until he reached the wall. He made his way into the very last aisle and crouched down to the lowest rack near the floor.

It was filled with notebooks. Some were bound in leather, some were common paperbacks and quite a few looked rather worse for wear. Harry took out one that was tucked away in the far corner. It was pretty thick, had a midnight blue leather cover and appeared new and untouched. There were silver letters imprinted on its spine reading _The Other World_.

As he walked back to the illuminated side of the room Harry ran his index finger over the writing and it immediately changed to _The Wizarding World_. As soon as he got to the desk he conjured a carved black wooden chair and sat on it. The ball of light grew bigger, floated over the desk and stayed hanging above the middle of it. Harry grabbed his beige fountain pen, opened the notebook on the first blank page and started scribbling away on it enthusiastically.

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Couldn't Narcissa wake him up before drawing the bloody curtains apart? The sun was shining right in his face and was giving him a fierce headache. He wanted to call Dobby but found his mouth and throat so dry he doubted he could make a sound. With his eyes still closed he reached for the glass of water the house-elf always left on the bedside table. When his hand swept through empty space for the fifth time still not hitting the glass nor the table he tried to open his eyes. The heavy lids wouldn't move and stayed stubbornly glued together for so long that Lucius started coming to terms with the idea of staying blind as a mole for the rest of his life. Finally they gave in to his prodding and lazily fluttered open.

He stared dully at the too white ceiling for ages. Where was the canopy? He snapped his head to the left cringing at the pain that shot through his neck at the swift movement. Long stripes of black and blacker, the blacker ones with red patches in the middle. That was not the wardrobe he was expecting. He blinked and when the picture wouldn't change he frowned in confusion.

"Good morning," greeted an amused voice from his right and the muscles in Lucius' neck protested once again as he hastily searched for its source. There was a dark-haired young man sprawled casually across a crimson red armchair his legs crossed and dangling over one of the armrests. He had a closed book in his hand a finger stuck between the pages and a far too smug grin on his face for Lucius' liking. His eyes locked with the expectant bright green gaze and as if triggered by the contact it all came to him in a rush of blurred images. The unsuccessful meeting, the first drinks, the alluring magic, the intriguing conversation, drinks, the Apparation, drinks, what seemed like hours of explaining and debating, drinks, and then... Oh, Merlin! He could feel the teasing hand on his thigh, the legs wound tightly around his waist, the rock hard arousal pressing against his own... He felt himself harden from the bare memories and was suddenly grateful for the sheets covering him. This was absurd! And humiliating. Malfoys didn't blush. Then why did his cheeks feel so hot as an alarming suspicion flashed through his head? He hurriedly looked under the covers and sighed in relief when his eyes found the longed-for trousers in place.

A poorly suppressed chuckle sounded through the room and its lascivious quality didn't exactly help Lucius' current situation.

"May I use your bathroom?" he asked trying to appear unconcerned as he arduously climbed out of the bed.

"Be my guest," offered the boy graciously, though not bothering to hide his knowing smirk.

When Lucius raised a questioning eyebrow, Harry tilted his head to his left nonchalantly and Lucius saw a door appear where only unimpaired wall had been just a moment ago. He left it without comment and headed for the door feeling the lad's watchful gaze on him the whole time.

Lucius took care of himself as quickly as he could and returned to the room desperately forcing his dignity to stay intact. Harry had already conjured a second red armchair across from his own and Lucius took his seat without a word.

Compared to only a few minutes ago, the boy had a discreet air to him as if trying to make Lucius more comfortable. It seemed as if he had decided he'd had his fun and now it was time to get down to business. Although Lucius didn't know what to think of the teen's change of attitude, he couldn't help relaxing slightly.

"How are you feeling?" the boy had the nerve to ask. Lucius just gave him an unimpressed look, though Harry didn't appear put out by his lack of response.

"Do you want me to take the headache away?" asked the lad matter-of-factly.

Lucius swiftly masked his incredulity with a thoughtful expression and slowly nodded.

This time he sensed the magic coming before it started taking effect, not like before when the boy hadn't had his approval. It appeared friendly and gentle as it neared him. Then it embraced him. His head was immediately cuddled in a soft cocoon of warm and soothing energy. It felt heavenly! As the last prickles of pain were washed away by the balmy waves and Harry's magic gradually retreated, Lucius couldn't supress a sigh of loss.

He was now mercilessly reminded that it hadn't been only alcohol making him want to touch and pleasure the boy yesterday. He also had to acknowledge that his obstinate attraction to Harry - or was it the teen's magic playing tricks on him again? - hadn't been just yesterday's issue. Yet he couldn't think about it. At least not in the boy's presence. It was too dangerous. It was so damn irritating what the lad could do to him, how much control he could have over Lucius. But he was having none of this nonsense. Now with his head clear and sharp again he wouldn't let himself be fooled anymore.

"Thank you," he said truly grateful.

The boy nodded in acknowledgement and looked at him strangely before asking:

"Do you remember your promise from last night?"

"Rather clearly," Lucius responded. "Among other things," he added bitterly and regretted it instantly. The moment the words left his lips he could see Harry's so far perfect polite restraint shatter to pieces.

"Well, good for you," noted the boy innocently. However Lucius didn't believe that was all he had to say. And it wasn't. "Or should I say good for your libido, not so good for your conscience?" teased the lad mock thoughtfully.

"Aren't you quiet full of yourself?" snapped Lucius unable to help himself.

Harry seemed to swallow a spicy comeback and came out with a challenging smirk instead.

"Maybe a little bit. It never killed anyone," he cocked his head to one side playfully. "As if you're the one to talk," he finished cheekily his warm one would say fond eyes locking with Lucius'.

Lucius had to laugh. It was an honest and freeing kind of laughter that swept away most of his worries about the previous night and left him light-hearted. There had been a part of him that had linked all the unexpected, shocking, humiliating and all in all disagreeable events and emotions of this past night and labelled them _Harry. _That part had just died under the boy's glance. Harry wasn't going for - and succeeding in - humiliating him at all. He was just playing around and that was all there was to it. Yes, he was surprisingly powerful and devilishly intelligent but he was still only a teenager testing his limits. Yesterday in the bar and for the entire evening as well as this morning. Oh, he'd been such a fool.

However, the boy's quirks weren't the only thing that had been having Lucius troubled. He hadn't made it to the manor last night and even though Narcissa wasn't the jealous type, she wasn't a harmless naïve sheep either. If he somehow managed to make her suspicious, using extreme methods to discover the truth wasn't foreign to her. It wouldn't be his first time under his wife's Legilimency nor under her secret dose of Veritaserum. If she were to find out about this... madness, well, let's say it would be unpleasant.

And there was the Dark Lord. He feared to even think about his Lord getting to know that Lucius had not only been unable to accomplish his task - which wasn't his fault at all since the other negotiator hadn't shown up - but had also disclosed the classified information of his return to a complete stranger. The Dark Lord may be tolerant to Lucius' mistakes, though this would definitely hurt.

When he returned his attention to the boy, for a fraction of a second he thought he caught sight of a calculating expression. He blinked. No, Harry looked bored, utterly bored waiting for Lucius to finally say something.

"Exactly how strong is the spell that keeps me from revealing last night's events to a third person?" he obliged.

Instantly the boy's expression changed from bored to intrigued.

"I've been wondering whether you'd ask," Harry informed a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. "So you are married after all," he concluded to Lucius' bewilderment.

"How do you know I'm not asking to get more information on the spell and planning on breaking it?" inquired Lucius, still astonished by the boy's right assumption and trying to follow the train of thought that led Harry to predict and assess his behaviour so confidently.

"If you wanted to break the spell, you wouldn't have asked at least not directly. You would try to find your way around it on your own first. You wouldn't risk warning me by asking, because then I could take precautions and strengthen the spell or react violently if I believed you could threaten me with the information you possessed. Asking would be your last standby solution," Harry explained. "Well, if you gave the matter at least some thought and weren't a complete imbecile," he added daring Lucius to oppose him.

"And how do you know I don't want to break it?" questioned Lucius curiously. He couldn't but agree with Harry's reasoning.

"I never claimed you didn't want to or wouldn't want to break it eventually. I merely implied it hadn't been the reason why you'd asked," clarified the boy flatly, obviously not interested in discussing the matter any further.

"So, back to your promise. Do you intend to keep it?" inquired Harry changing the subject.

"It depends on what you expect when asking for help in the society. If you demand private meetings with high politicians, flattery in the right ears and my noticeable support in public, I'm not the man you're searching for," answered Lucius earnestly.

"I hope I'm not that inept. All I ask is for you to help me enter the society. That means arranging an invitation to a social event and be at my disposal for said occasion. I'd prefer for the event to be somewhat significant, so that I would have a chance to make acquaintances with influential figures. Although if you are apprehensive of being associated with me in the future, I can make do with something less public," explicated the boy in a business-like manner which had Lucius quite astounded.

He thought it over and decided:

"I'd be willing to do that for you, though first I'd like to know a little more about you. Tell me about your family situation, your education-," he wanted to go on but was cut off by Harry's response.

"Sounds fair," nodded the boy. "My family situation is rather non-existent, since I have no family. I've lived at Winter's Orphanage far longer than can be healthy. I suppose my current education level could be compared to the one of a secondary school graduate when taken from the muggle point of view. There's not much you can do in an orphanage, if you aren't fond of playing silly pointless games or bullying other kids, you know? Read and study is pretty much the only thing there is for you, if you don't want to die of boredom."

It was no surprise, really. There was no way the teen was a mudblood. No mudblood could hold such power. As Harry hadn't known about the wizarding world, there was little to no chance that his parents were alive. That could be a delicate matter so he'd ask about Harry's parents later, when he had answers to his other questions. Concerning education, Lucius didn't really care about muggle titles. It was sufficient to know the boy had a brain in his head and knew how to use it.

Now since he couldn't judge the boy's character by his attitude to his parents, he'd have to adapt to the situation and work with a group of kids.

"In children's hierarchy there are four types of children. The bullies, the bullies' cronies, the bullied and occasionally the sympathetic and for some reason tolerated friends of the bullied. I can't imagine you as any other type than the bully," uttered Lucius thoughtfully.

"You make it sound as if kids ran their own politics," Harry laughed.

"And don't they?" implied Lucius.

"When you put it the way you have, it sounds like they do. Although in fact they don't. Let's ask a simple question. What's the basis of politics? There's of course a complex and much more sophisticated answer but essentially, politics is based on the choice of opinion. You can have free choice of opinion. In such case you use the acts of persuasion and manipulation to achieve your goals. Then you can have limited or no choice of opinion. Meaning you use force, ploy or sycophancy to get your way. Now try to find a corresponding pattern in the workings of a group of children. Do you see the difference? For example, what can your "bullied" do to accomplish their goals? Will it help them if they use any of the means I named in their position? Of course not, because they are along with the "bullies" children and therefore can't think rationally. Their motives may seem at times ridiculously simple, though sometimes they are only illogical whims of given moment. You can't apply the rules of politics on children because where there's no sense, there are no rules," the boy set forth and like an experienced conversationalist waited for his words to sink in.

Lucius had felt his opinion change on its own accord during Harry's speech. Although the topic was of no great importance and Lucius had never truly given it much thought, it was scary what the teen could do. The lad was good, he had to give him that. Where had the kid gotten such insight? Now he understood what the boy had meant when he had sarcastically "hoped not to be that inept". He was good.

"But you were curious about my stand in the "children's hierarchy" as you called it," Harry snickered. "Bullies generally choose their victims between the weak that can't defend themselves. I find no satisfaction in winning over someone I consider weak. I guess I make a whole new type of children then. The ones that don't care about petty fights sufficiently not to take part in them and capable of one effective demonstration of what will happen to anyone stupid enough to try to force them. In other words the blissfully ignorant and wisely ignored in return," the boy finished giving Lucius a toothy grin.

"That sounds like a dangerous type," noted Lucius.

"I suppose it is," Harry chuckled.

They sat in silence for a while before Harry asked:

"Want some coffee?"

"Yes, I'd like that," Lucius nodded. He had no objection to continuing his questioning over a hot drink.

**-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-**

_That went well_, thought Harry standing up and letting the oak spiral staircase appear in the middle of the room near the wall to his left. Lucius had been as expected fishing for information. It was satisfying to see that although he had in fact given the man next to nothing he had made Lucius feel as if he cooperated without second thought. It would stop the man from prying too much. Too much being the key word. He'd still have to see the blond out as soon as possible. It was dangerous to stay in Lucius' presence in his current position. As much as he hated it, he was dependant on the man's help and since Lucius had agreed to Harry's conditions he was now free to ask some favours in return. If they were to be answers, Harry wouldn't give them up without a fight. The less the man knew about him, the better. He trusted his spell to keep Lucius' mouth shut but was aware he couldn't afford to leave anything to chance. He almost snickered out loud. It had been so easy to make Lucius forget about his original intention when he'd asked about the spell's strength. Well, why should he give the man undesirable leads when he didn't have to? So easy.

He had to wonder, if Lucius' master would be able to feel Harry's magic on Lucius as he had felt the mark on the man. That could set the wizard on Harry's track. Should he be scared or excited? _If the man is smart enough to work out the way around the spell, I'd be delighted to meet him. So if he finds me, he'll practically spare me the work of searching for him. I shouldn't make it too easy for him though. _He smirked.

Now he needed to startle Lucius out of his questioning mode to ask some questions of his own. All it would require was a sufficient distraction and Harry was sure he would be provided with a pretty effective one soon enough.

Harry headed for the staircase motioning for Lucius to follow him and simultaneously summoning the ashtray and a rectangular package wrapped in brown paper from his writing desk.

"Can't you just conjure it?" asked Lucius looking hopeful.

"No, it's impossible to conjure food and drinks," Harry informed suspecting the blond had already known. He observed Lucius closely and had to fight back a chuckle when the man suppressed a sigh of relief.

"How can you be so sure it's impossible? You simply might not have worked out how to do it," suggested the blond trying to sound indifferent but Harry could still make out a slight trace of irritation.

"I'm quite full of myself, remember?" said Harry walking down the stairs snickering quietly as he heard the other man snort behind his back.

The image that greeted him when he entered the door wasn't at all unexpected, though that didn't make it any less amusing. The room could be almost considered a work of art it was such an incredible mess. Someone had had to work really hard to put it in its present state of absolute chaos. Said someone was currently in the tiny kitchen across the room grovelling on his knees and seemed to be trying to fit his head in the microscopic gap between the ancient cooker and the floor.

"Morning, old man," Harry called out to the crouched figure.

"Morning Mr Perfect," mumbled the man automatically.

"Seems I can relish doing the cleaning again," Harry pronounced as clearly as he could. It worked, he knew it would.

The man scrambled to his feet rather hastily.

"Morning Mr Perfect," he bellowed once more. He picked up a cup of coffee from the sink and set off jumping from the kitchen towards them, the mud-coloured liquid slopping wildly from the cup in his hand.

"Lucius, meet the one and only Gerald Owen Sanderson," Harry introduced theatrically noting a flicker of recognition in Lucius' eyes at the name. Curious. "He's nuts," he added quite needlessly.

Before Lucius could react Mr Sanderson addressed him in an accusing voice:

"Mr Blondie why did you steal my ashtray?" asked the old man ignoring the glass bowl in Harry's hand.

"Lucius didn't steal anything. I borrowed it last night," he explained dispassionately, trying very hard to keep a straight face seeing Lucius' displeased scowl from the corner of his eye. He handed the ashtray to the old man, who accepted it excitedly and started to study it closely sinking on the flowered sofa-bed.

"Blondie? Seriously?" huffed Lucius indignantly.

"It's not the worse you could get, believe me," Harry assured him supressing his amusement.

"How come you are Mr Perfect?" wondered Lucius.

"Isn't that obvious?" implied Harry with a smirk.

A smile tugged at Lucius' lips until he started scrutinizing their surroundings. Then his expression changed to one of poorly concealed disgust.

"What is this place?" asked the man his tone far from showing polite interest.

"Let's take this to the sitting room, shell we?" suggested Harry not offended in the slightest turning back to the staircase and opening the first door to his right.

It was a rather small and modestly furnished but cosy room with an open fireplace and a balcony. There was only one round table with four plain padded chairs around all in the warm shades of cherry wood.

"Make yourself at home, I'll be back with the coffee," said Harry putting the brown paper package down on the table and leaving Lucius in the room by himself.

He walked through Mr Sanderson's room noticing the man had already lit himself a cigarette and was now puffing on it contentedly sprawled over the sofa-bed the glass ashtray in his hand.

"We'll be leaving soon, old man," Harry notified making his way to the kitchen and letting the door fall shut behind him. He conjured two simple white cups and filled them with water, which he heated to the boiling point with a quick spell. Then he added the coffee, made the liquid stir for a bit before cooling it to a drinkable temperature. Heading to the sitting room, he swiftly glanced at the grandfather clock near the staircase. Ten fifteen. He wouldn't even have to lie. Perfect.

Placing the cups on the table he settled in the chair opposite Lucius. He raised a questioning eyebrow at the man when he stared at Harry expectantly.

"An underage wizard and an insane old muggle, you have to admit that you two aren't exactly a pair of housemates one comes across every day," Lucius finally implied.

"I suppose you are right," acknowledged Harry suspecting where the man was going with this but not willing to help him get there.

"What is the relationship between the two of you?" inquired Lucius.

"I need him and he's better off having me around," explained Harry vaguely. Just great. So much for startling Lucius out of his questioning mode.

"So you aren't related?" the man queried looking relieved.

"No, I've already told you I have no family," Harry reminded.

"How can you live with him like this?" asked Lucius shaking his head uncomprehendingly.

"Oh, you mean the mess? The place was spotless yesterday afternoon. The old man can be sprightly and surprisingly creative when he wants to though," snickered Harry.

"It's not just the mess. You seem to have a decent flat upstairs. Considering you are an orphan I have to wonder where you got the finances to buy such an elegant place. On the other hand, what I've seen down here is a disgrace. How can you live in this house, know what's below you and-," Lucius' words were drowned out by Harry's laughter.

He couldn't help himself. Lucius was just so deliciously upper class. Thoroughly spoilt by years of floating on his cloud of infinite luxury and now appropriately outraged by imperfection interfering with his flawless little world.

"I wasn't lying when I told you I lived at Winter's. The room upstairs isn't a flat, it's my Office and it is in every way possible a work of magic," Harry informed somewhat proudly when he composed himself. "As for the rest of your speech, I am quite confused about what your point is. Is it that if I don't mind living above such disgrace as you put it I have no morals? Or is it that in given case I have no taste?" he asked bluntly.

Lucius seemed properly affronted and Harry was pleasantly surprised. He didn't expect the man to take the jab. Maybe there was some ethics in the blond after all.

"What exactly are you implying? I have no interest in muggle filth. My only point is a wizard shouldn't live among such scum, that's all," Lucius retorted.

That had Harry taken aback, though he managed to keep his expression unaffected. He might not have been reading the man as well as he had thought. _Muggle filth. That's harsh. _What Harry found disgraceful was the narrow-minded attitude to unknown and new, the envy and covetousness, the always shifting suggestible public opinion... He could enumerate thousands of things he hated with a passion. But the people wouldn't be one of them! It would be most ignorant to hate the people. Some were brilliant and kind and insightful and hard-working and loving and funny and smart and... Hating them all was just absurd. Or was he naïve? No, after all the hatred he received from this world he was sure he could rely on his judgment. If he was able not to despise the people that had with only few exceptions brought nothing good only obstacles to his life, there had to be something to it. And the man sitting across from him didn't seem to see it. Were all wizards so hostile towards muggles? If yes, was there any way he could make them understand how wrong they were? _Oh, cut the crap. You are getting way ahead of yourself! Do what you need to do first, then think about your noble rubbish._ Right. He needed to enter the Wizarding World before changing it. He had to laugh at himself internally for getting so carried away. He'd tell Lucius what he thought of the matter one day. Just not today.

"I'm not implying anything. Now let us move to more pressing issues," he said conciliatorily and paused to search Lucius' face for evidence that the man had calmed down sufficiently for Harry to safely make requests. Finding what he'd been looking for he continued carefully choosing every word: "I've been wondering how the Wizarding World deals with people like me. You know, orphans," Harry said testing the waters.

Lucius pondered it for a while. Then he sighed and answered: "To tell you the truth I don't really know. There aren't any wizarding orphanages that I'm aware of. I suppose it is always considered a responsibility of the closest relative to take care of a child that lost both parents. In case there is no living family left, the Ministry finds a suitable guardian."

Harry had anticipated that much and even though the solution seemed better than the muggle one, he cursed it thoroughly. He didn't need a bloody guardian. He didn't need anyone controlling his decisions, questioning his actions and demanding explanations of his motives, thank you very much. Although he doubted he would be treated badly, he was sure the wizard or witch would always have the upper hand over him and he just couldn't have that. It had taken too much effort to arrange living conditions in this world that made him somewhat independent to rush somewhere he could be deprived of his freedom so easily. There had to be another way and he would find it. Later.

"And I presume that it is compulsory for an underage wizard to attend school?" inquired Harry.

"Yes, until you reach seventeen years of age, it is unavoidable unless you hire a private tutor," informed Lucius still in the dark about where Harry was going with this.

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you arrange a meeting with someone who is familiar with these legal issues, who would be able to assist me with filling the required forms and taking the best course of action? I would appreciate a discreet person who can be trusted," requested Harry politely.

"Yes, that can be easily taken care of. But tell me. What do I gain by doing you these favours? What will you do to pay me back?" challenged Lucius.

"Let's say I owe you one," offered Harry smirking confidently setting his magic free for an instant now that he was sure of the effect it had on Lucius knowing that otherwise his response would sound lame and intentionally vague.

Lucius supressed a gasp as the powerful wave of energy hit his senses, then studied Harry for a moment with an unreadable expression which turned into a calculating one when he concluded:

"Alright, I'll do it. I know just the man. Should I send him over to… Winter's Orphanage, was it? Would Thursday afternoon be satisfactory? Concerning your other request I'll have let you know via letter by the end of the week," Lucius informed in a business-like manner.

"It's a deal," nodded Harry contentedly. "Now if you don't have other urgent matters to discuss, I have to be in the orphanage by eleven," he said rising from his chair.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you how I should arrange these meetings for you when I am under a spell that prevents me from talking about your requests," Lucius wondered somewhat triumphant about the fact that he'd found a flaw in Harry's planning.

"I've already cancelled it, there shouldn't be any problems," answered Harry concealing his amusement. Although he didn't want to give out any more information than necessary about the spell, he had to admit that this question was reasonable and he had expected Lucius to ask.

"What do you mean, you cancelled it?" inquired Lucius looking horrified.

"I doubt your wife will be able to extract anything about yesterday night from your mind by any means," Harry chuckled. "Still, you should be able to reveal what will be needed," explained Harry as vaguely as he could.

Lucius stared at him before snapping out of his shocked stupor and asking dully:

"How the hell do you know about my wife?"

"Well since gay marriage wasn't legal last time I checked and you didn't object when I said you were married, I assumed your spouse was a woman." He tilted his head to one side thoughtfully and then continued: "Even if the law's different in the Wizarding World, you haven't said a word about last night, nor have you tried to jump me again so far so... Do you really want to talk about this now that you are not under the spell anymore?" by the time Harry finished Lucius was squirming in his seat uncomfortably and his cheeks had a pink tinge to them. Still Harry kept his amusement in check. He wanted the man willing to help him, not furious.

"Although I've found your company very enjoyable, I'm sure you have places to be, people to see and otherwise be your busy influential self," concluded Harry standing up this time more resolutely, snatching the package from the table and walking over to the door with Lucius on his heels.

When they made their way through the long dark corridor and Lucius was about to walk down the stairs to have more space for Apparation, Harry held out the package for him to take.

"Should you find the time and desire to broaden your horizons…" said Harr with a smirk leaving the man standing confused with the package in his hand and shutting the door in his face.

**-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-**

After Apparating to Malfoy Manor Lucius started walking briskly down the shadowed empty corridor leading to his study. He had letters to write concerning Harry's requests among other things. Shaking his head over the brat's infuriating antics he ripped the brown paper to examine the contents of the package the lad had given him.

As he touched the object inside, there was a surge of magic enveloping him and then swiftly disappearing leaving him with doubts if it really had happened. It was Harry's magic, that much he could feel, but what had it done? For all he knew it could have been a tracking spell or some kind of insurance that he would truly do what they had agreed on. And it could have been nothing as well, just an attempt to make him think those things. Since he couldn't tell though… Damn the boy was smart.

He turned his attention to the charmed object. It was a thick book with a picture of a man in a weird hat with a pipe dangling from his lips on the front cover. The golden writing on its spine read _Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes._

**-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-**

**AN: So, what do you think? Hungry for your opinions here, don't let me starve ;)****  
****AN: About the length... Would you prefer longer chapters and slightly slower updating speed or the other way around? :)**


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